


erode all my sharp edges, make me into love

by xylophones



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (lightly mentioned), Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Insecurity, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26353543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylophones/pseuds/xylophones
Summary: Yuuri arrives about half an hour later to find Yurio still ranting, Georgi hunched over with his head in his hands, Mila excitedly shaking her glitter encrusted banner, and Yakov observing the chaos from a distance. In the middle of it all, Viktor is smiling, incandescently happy.Yuuri’s laugh bubbles out of him. He waves dorkily, carry-on luggage bouncing against his calves as he runs into Viktor’s arms.“I’m home!”(Or: Yuuri Moves to Russia, A Relationship Told in Slow Dances)
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 48
Kudos: 351
Collections: Prescription Strength Fluff





	erode all my sharp edges, make me into love

**Author's Note:**

> hi again

_i. slow cinnamon summer_

The day Yuuri moves in with him, Victor is a wreck.

Months of planning, whispered “I love you”s over FaceTime, and long phone calls with shipping companies all culminate in a mildly chilly June day, Victor sitting pretty and stressed in an uncomfortable airport chair, waiting for the love of his life to step through the arrivals gate. He rubs his ring with his thumb, sweeping the pad of it back and forth along the polished surface. He tries not to think about how long he’s been waiting to hold Yuuri in his arms again. He tries not to think about what he’ll do if Yuuri has magically disappeared in the six hours it’s been since they texted during Yuuri’s stopover in the Hamad International Airport.

He’s startled out of his thoughts when Georgi lays a hand over his.

“He’ll be here soon.” Georgi offers Victor a kind smile, patting his hand once before pulling away.

Victor lets out a long sigh. “I know.”

Yurio snorts.

“What are you even nervous about? You already tricked him into marrying you.”

“ _He_ proposed to _me,_ Yurio.” Victor side-eyes him. “And I’m not nervous. I’m excited.”

Mila emerges from the gigantic _‘Welcome to Russia, Yuuri!’_ banner she has piled in her lap. “Please, how long have we known you, Vitya? Don’t lie to us, we can tell you’re nervous.”

Victor puffs out his cheeks.

“It’s okay to be nervous,” Georgi adds.

Yurio grunts, which could mean he agrees. Victor’s not sure.

“Yeah,” Victor admits, letting out another sigh. “Yeah, I’m nervous.”

“Why?”

“He’s moving across a continent for me. That’s a big deal!”

“Well, so is deciding to get married and you jumped into that with no hesitation.” Mila shuffles in her seat, knocking some of the glitter off her banner.

“That’s different!”

“How?”

“Yuuri asked so I _knew_ it was something he wanted. What if he doesn’t really want to live here and he just said yes to make me happy? What if he hates it here and starts to resent me? What if–– oh, God, Mila–– what if he gets _bored_ of me?”

Yurio scowls. “That’s literally impossible. Last week you impulsively redesigned your whole apartment to ‘freshen up’ the place. You change your nail polish color everyday.”

“I’ll run out of colors eventually,” Victor realizes, horrified.

Georgi observes Victor’s meltdown for a moment before stepping in.

“You don’t need to worry about being interesting enough, Vitya,” Georgi says in the soft, earnest way only Georgi can be, “Yuuri is a good man. He’s not so shallow. He will love you regardless.”

Victor’s heart settles in his chest. He smiles. “You’re right. Thanks, Georgi.”

“Besides,” Yurio butts in, “don’t you think you’re being a little self-centered? He’s here to _train_ , technically. And also to be my rival.”

Victor rolls his eyes. “Right, how could I forget about your fated rivalry. Explain to me again how you plan on beating my Yuuri when you only won the Grand Prix by 0.12 points?”

Yurio sucks in a big breath “ _Listen here, asshole––!”_

(Yuuri arrives about half an hour later to find Yurio still ranting, Georgi hunched over with his head in his hands, Mila excitedly shaking her glitter encrusted banner, and Yakov observing the chaos from a distance. In the middle of it all, Victor is smiling, incandescently happy.

Yuuri’s laugh bubbles out of him. He waves dorkily, carry-on luggage bouncing against his calves as he runs into Victor’s arms.

“I’m home!”)

It’s later–– after they’ve hauled Yuuri’s luggage into Victor’s bright pink Cadillac and survived rush hour traffic–– that they get a moment to themselves. The rest of the Russian Skate Squad are safely deposited back in their respective homes, Yuuri is (mostly) unpacked, and Makkachin has calmed down enough to stop throwing herself at Yuuri every few seconds.

Victor can relate, honestly. He hasn’t been able to keep his hands off Yuuri either.

Victor takes a moment to just look at Yuuri. He’s a vision, sitting on top of Victor’s kitchen counter with his legs swinging, fuzzy socks protecting his feet from the chill. The sleeves of his sweater spill over his wrists, pooling around his knuckles. He hums along softly to the radio, fingers tapping along the counter like he can’t help it. Like a part of him always has to be dancing. Victor watches Yuuri fiddle and wonders how so much light can exist in one person. It’s everywhere–– in the corners of his smile, in the cadence of his voice, in the gentle way he touches Victor. He touches Victor like he’s something treasured, something warm and _alive._

Something more than just a legend. Something made of blood and fire, not dust and medals and numbers.

Something loveable.

“Vitya, you stopped chopping.” Victor snaps out of his thoughts when Yuuri leans over, tugging gently on his shirt to get his attention. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s _wonderful_ , love.” Victor beams. “Just thinking.”

Yuuri hums playfully, tilting his head. “Thinking about me?”

“Always, _solnyshko_ ,” Victor answers. He reaches for Yuuri’s hand, gently tugging so he hops off the counter. “Come here.”

Yuuri goes. He follows him as Victor pulls, wrapping his arms around Victor’s neck as Victor’s arms snake around his waist, walking them backwards through their apartment. _Their_ apartment. He stumbles for a bit over the carpet before reaching the balcony doors, fumbling with the handles behind his back as he opens them and leads Yuuri through.

“Vitya, what are we doing? Dinner’s not going to cook itself, you know.”

“Dinner can wait.”

The air outside is crisp and refreshing, a nice contrast to the sweet warmth radiating from inside. Out here, the sounds of traffic filter up from the street, the low hum of the radio just slightly muffled. Still loud enough for the music to be heard, loud enough for Victor to take a step back from Yuuri and ask for a dance.

Yuuri laughs, tangles their hands together, _breathes_ and Victor is enamored.

Yuuri takes the lead, as always. He pulls them into a simple slow dance, swaying in time to the distant beat from the radio, weaving his own music into the sounds of St. Petersburg living below them.

“Ah, we should turn on the lights,” Yuuri says, stepping back for a moment. He ducks inside to hit the switch, and suddenly their tiny balcony is lit up with the soft yellow glow of the fairy lights they’d strung up earlier. Together.

“Perfect,” Victor breathes.

“Yeah,” Yuuri answers, stepping back into his arms, “you are.”

Victor blushes.

“When did you get so bold, love?”

Yuuri pretends to think. “Maybe when I asked you to marry me after only dating for a handful of months, and you said _yes_?”

“Ah.” Victor lifts his hand so the light of the setting sun glints off his ring. “Yes, I remember that.”

Yuuri giggles. He bumps their noses together softly. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Victor beams. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“I can’t either.”

It’s there, swaying slowly with Yuuri in his arms, stories above the busy St.Petersburg streets and with the sun setting in the distance, that Victor realizes he never wants to be apart from Yuuri again.

And then Victor catches a glimpse of his ring again and realizes he never has to be.

_ii. un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche_

Victor glides aimlessly while Yuuri sets up the music. Victor finds himself skating compulsory figures. He’s started doing it more and more since he started training with Yuuri. Yuuri told him that he’d been doing it since he was a kid. He says it calms him down, helps him focus.

There _is_ something calming about it. Just his blades on the ice. No fancy jumps or carefully calculated steps. Just breathing and moving forward.

The first few notes of a familiar song trickle in through the rink’s loudspeaker. Victor grinds to a halt.

“Yuuri?” he calls out. Yuuri sets his phone down on the rink wall and skates over to him.

Victor furrows his brow and listens to the music. “This isn’t the exhibition song.”

“I know.” Yuuri flashes him a playful grin, the kind that makes Victor’s heart beat fast and hot. He floats over to Victor, his skates barely touching the ice. He stops right in front of him and offers him a hand, still grinning.

Victor takes it automatically, smiling hesitantly. “What are you doing?”

“You’ve been on the ice all day,” Yuuri says. He holds both of Victor’s hands in his own, cradling them like they’re something precious. “First with my training in the morning, then with Yakov in the afternoon, and now with me again.”

“I _like_ being on the ice with you.”

Yuuri skates backwards. Victor, as always, follows.

“I know,” Yuuri replies. He suddenly untangles their hands and uses his forward momentum to draw Victor in close, wrapping his arms around his waist. Victor’s breath catches. “I thought you could use a break. Dance with me, Vitya?”

Victor never passes up an opportunity to dance with Yuuri. He nods wordlessly, too charmed to come up with a proper sentence.

Yuuri leads them into a simple slow dance, gliding across the ice in long, curving sweeps. Victor gets lost in the rhythmic brush of their blades on the ice, the warm puffs of Yuuri’s breathing. Yuuri unwinds one of his arms from around Victor’s waist and brings it up to cup his face. He hums as he sweeps his thumb across Victor’s cheekbone, eyes closed as they coast backwards, wrapped up in each other.

“Oh!” Victor gasps as he suddenly recognizes the song. “This is my song.”

Yuuri opens his eyes and smiles. He pulls back to spin Victor under his arm, before pulling him in even closer than before. “Yes, it is.”

Victor listens closely to the soft piano, the flowing french lyrics. “I used this for my free skate at my last Junior World’s.”

“I know. It’s my favorite.”

“Oh? Not Stammi Vicino?”

Yuuri’s smile turns a little shy as he shakes his head. “I love Stammi Vicino, but I love this one more. It was the first of your programs that I ever learned. It’s so… _soft_.”

“Soft,” Victor repeats. “Yes. I like that. It’s soft.”

Victor switches them around so he’s leading. He decides to get fancy and picks Yuuri up for a mini-lift, only a couple inches off the ice. Yuuri gasps, delighted. Victor uses their momentum to send them spinning in time with the piano melody, turning and turning.

“Have I ever told you the story behind the music for this?”

Yuuri makes a curious noise. He shakes his head.

“I told Yakov I wanted to make this program as gay as possible––”

Yuuri snorts. “Of course you did. You haven’t changed a bit, Vitya.”

Victor grins. “Look at me now, planning romantic exhibition skates with my soon-to-be husband. I think I’ve outdone myself.”

Yuuri playfully pushes at his chest. “Get on with the story.”

“I looked everywhere for a version of the song with a male singer who didn’t change the pronouns, but I couldn’t find anything. I got so frustrated that I just booked a session at a recording studio and sang it myself.”

“You–– wait, what?” Yuuri narrows his eyes at him. “That isn’t your voice. You didn’t sing this.”

“Nope!” Victor spins Yuuri around. “My singing was _horrible_. There’s no way I could have used it in my program. But, I caught the attention of the studio producer and he introduced me to someone who _could_ sing it properly.”

They’re so caught up in each other that they’re not even skating anymore, just turning in slow, small circles in the middle of the ice.

Victor pulls Yuuri in close suddenly, and impulsively dips him. Yuuri laughs, swatting at Victor’s biceps lightly as he looks up at him, hair messy and glasses askew. He pops up one of his legs, pointing his toes as Victor croons along to the song dramatically. It’s silly. It is, technically, a waste of their booked ice time. Fifteen-year-old Victor would _never_ use up practice time like this.

But fifteen year old Victor had never met someone he wanted to be this silly with. Fifteen year old Victor would have never imagined growing up and getting old and being okay with it, with not winning gold sometimes. With putting someone else before him.

The Victor who had skated to this song at Junior World’s hadn’t met Yuuri yet.

Flushed, giggling Yuuri who looks up at Victor like he put the stars in the sky, who lets Victor dip him and pull him into ridiculous pair skates and shoves his cold feet under Victor’s thighs when they’re watching TV on the couch.

“Ah, I wish I’d known you then,” Victor says suddenly. The song is over, but they’re still swaying in the afternoon light, syrupy slow and sweet.

“When we were kids?” Yuuri snorts. “No, Vitya, you really wouldn’t have liked me.”

Victor frowns. “Why not?”

“I was shy. And awkward. And I kind of idolized you, back then.” Yuuri flushes. “Uh, I mean I sort of still idolized you at the beginning of this year….”

Victor lets Yuuri trail off. He spins them again, humming lightly as he gathers his response.

“Well, I was too cocky, when I was younger. And too loud. A bit of a mess. I think we would have balanced each other out nicely.”

“Bold of you to assume we wouldn’t have just clashed horribly and ended up hating each other.”

“I could never hate you. Besides, opposites attract, right?”

Yuuri smiles. “Hmm, that would explain how I’m somehow attracted to a man who believes megalodon is still out there.”

“Believing in megalodon is not a personality trait! _Yuuri!_ ” Victor pauses. “Wait, did you just say you’re attracted to me?”

Yuuri stops swaying and looks at Victor like he’s dumb. “Vitya. We are _engaged_.”

Victor flushes. “Still.”

Yuuri laughs hard and Victor finds himself losing what little control of his emotions he had. He feels himself melting, liquid light dripping sun-warm and honeyed, as he loves, loves, _loves_.

_iii. give me reasons we should be complete_

“Vitya,” Yuuri whispers, quietly, and Victor knows.

He stands up from the couch, where he’d been reading and cuddling with Makkachin and gathers his fiancé up into his arms. Yuuri folds in gently, face finding the crook of Victor’s neck like someone finding the familiar path back home.

“I’m here,” Victor says, voice low. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here for you, love.”

“I— I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m—“ Yuuri cuts himself off with a shaky inhale. He burrows further into Victor’s arms.

“There doesn’t need to be a reason _._ It’s okay to just be sad sometimes.”

It’s an echo of the words Yuuri uses to comfort _him_ when he gets down, when the depression creeps up and threatens to suffocate him. When he can’t, for the life of him, explain why his chest is so tight. He uses them now to ground Yuuri, remind him that he never needs to hide his tears. Not from Victor.

A low whine cuts through the sound of Yuuri crying as Makka comes over to nudge Yuuri’s thighs softly. She curls her big, fluffy body as best she can around Yuuri’s shins, nosing at him lightly as she settles on his feet.

“See, love? Makka says it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to lean on us.”

Victor stands there, cradling Yuuri gently. He takes big, deep breaths until Yuuri copies him, exhales getting steadier as he syncs up their breathing. Victor watches over Yuuri’s shoulder as the clock in the kitchen ticks over into midnight. Eventually Yuuri pulls back.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, frantically swiping at his eyes. “Sorry, you were doing something.”

Victor gently bats Yuuri’s hands away and wipes his tears with more care. “Nothing more important than you.”

Yuuri looks away. “You’re good at this.”

“Good at what, baby?”

“Being kind,” Yuuri clarifies. “You’re so… nice to me.”

“ _Yuuri_.” Victor catches one of Yuuri’s hands in both of his, presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I love you. I want to be there for you, no matter what. You know that, right?”

“I–– um, yes. I know. I-In theory.”

“Why do you think I wouldn’t want to be here for you? Can you talk to me, love?” Victor tries and fails to catch his eye. “Please?”

Yuuri draws himself inwards. “It’s not a big deal, really….”

Victor studies him for a moment.

“Okay,” he says. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. But don’t push me away, okay? Even if you just want to cry and say nothing, that’s okay. Just let me be here for you.”

“I’m sorry, I just––” Yuuri’s breath hitches. “S-Sometimes I can't stand when people are gentle with me.”

Victor’s heart breaks. “Yuuri, do you not think you're deserving of gentleness?”

Yuuri doesn’t answer. That’s okay, for now. Victor will have the rest of their lives to show him the respect and tenderness and reverence he deserves to be treated with. Victor kisses his forehead once, twice, and once again before resting his cheek against the top of Yuuri’s head, rocking them slowly in place to avoid dislodging Makkachin, still at Yuuri’s feet.

They stand there swaying to unheard music for a long time–– chest to chest, socks on hardwood.

_iv. i’m out of step, i’m off my feet_

Victor does, eventually, run out of nail polish colors.

Yuuri doesn’t seem to mind–– or even notice at all–– not with the way he diligently kisses all of Victor’s fingers once the polish is dry enough. Victor never needs to worry about being interesting enough because it seems like Yuuri is happiest doing the most mundane, domestic tasks together. Folding laundry, cleaning the bathroom, filing taxes. Truly the most unglamorous parts of living with an international figure skating legend. Victor asks him about it one afternoon after they’ve finished grocery shopping.

“Why are you always so excited to do chores with me, love?” Victor watches fondly as Yuuri readjusts the reusable tote bag on his shoulder. It’s light blue and covered in little onigiris.

“I’m living out my greatest fantasies,” Yuuri says, completely serious. “People write self-insert fanfiction about grocery shopping with you and I get to just _do_ it.”

That startles a laugh out of Victor.

The way home from the market has them cutting through a park. It’s a nice day out, as warm as it’s ever going to get in St. Petersburg. Green grass, sunshine, distant sounds of children playing and dogs barking. The busier center of the park holds a small square with benches and small food carts. A busker is playing the violin, the notes drifting around the open air. Yuuri stops to admire them.

It’s picture perfect. Victor carefully takes the bags from Yuuri’s hands and sets them down on the ground.

Yuuri makes a curious noise as he turns to look at him.

“Can I have this dance?”

“We need to get the groceries home before the ice cream melts,” Yuuri says, but he indulges Victor anyway. He steps forward as Victor steps back, always in sync with each other.

Victor makes eye contact with the busker, who flashes him a big grin.

Victor belts out, “ _Hopelessly devoted to you!_ ”

“Vitya!” Yuuri burrows his flushed face into the crook of Victor’s neck.

Victor presses a quick kiss to the top of Yuuri’s head as they continue to dance, narrowly avoiding tripping over their own bags. Victor tries and fails to sweep Yuuri off his feet in a clumsy imitation of the move they can do perfectly on ice. Yuuri responds by effortlessly picking Victor up, who squawks indignantly and complains about being manhandled. Yuuri calls him a hypocrite and then they’re both laughing.

“Vitya, we should stop.” Yuuri giggles as Victor twirls him under his arm. “We’re being a–– _ha!––_ a nuisance.”

“Nonsense,” Victor exclaims. “We are simply being young and in love!”

Yuuri eyes the gathering crowd, noting the number of people filming both the busker and the two of them dancing. “This is going to be all over twitter later.”

“I look forward to retweeting videos,” Victor replies easily.

Eventually the song ends. The busker sends them an amused smile as Yuuri attempts to compliment his playing with his limited Russian. Victor drops a large handful of bills into his open case.

“That was fun,” Victor says, gathering up their bags. “Do you want to stop for coffee? There’s a nice cafe nearby.”

“No, let’s go home. I want to play Animal Crossing.” Yuuri tugs at Victor’s hand, leading him out of the park. “Beau’s moving in tomorrow and I need to fix the flowers around his house.”

Yuuri smiles to himself, wiggling his shoulders a little in a way that Victor finds hopelessly endearing. “Ah, I can’t wait.”

“You wouldn’t have to wait if you just time travelled.”

“Vitya!” Yuuri gasps, mock scandalized. “But that’s _cheating!_ ”

They playfully bicker as they exit the park, fingers intertwined even as they both struggle to hold all their groceries in one hand each. It’s difficult, but they manage. Victor thinks there are few challenges he won’t overcome just for the privilege of being able to hold Yuuri Katsuki’s hand. He looks down at their joined hands, considering, before catching Yuuri’s attention.

“My love,” Victor starts, “will you still hold my hand even when I’m old and my hands are all gross and wrinkly?”

“Of course,” Yuuri answers, not missing a beat. “My hands will be old and wrinkly, too.”

Victor stops walking.

“Yuuri,” he says slowly, “that is the most profoundly romantic thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Yuuri makes a confused noise and Victor catches it with his own mouth.

They walk home hand in hand.

**Author's Note:**

> it’s been a while!! how is everyone?? (i genuinely want to know, feel free to give me life updates in the comments) 
> 
> A couple (a lot of) notes: 
> 
> •the title is a translation of lyrics from Trivia: Love by BTS, which references something that RM (who wrote the song) said: “For me, there is a really interesting thing between Korean and English language. You know “love” and “live,” right? It sounds really similar. For Korean, in Korean, we call love in “사랑 [sarang]”, we call live- we call people in “사람 [saram]”, so it sounds really similar. So, I mean like, love, live– it’s the same word.” [[interview]](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5E94pLXUwk) (timestamp 4:09) [ [fan translation of the song] ](https://doolsetbangtan.wordpress.com/2018/08/24/trivia-love/) (pls consider giving it a read the wordplay + perspective on love really inspired me)
> 
> •the megalodon line is a reference to [this percy jackson post](https://jerseydevious.tumblr.com/post/622207418643988480/not-going-to-lie-i-am-kind-of-obsessed-with) that single handedly catapulted me back into the mind of my 12 year old self writing pjo fanfic on ff.net and wishing i had a cool smart gf like annabeth chase 
> 
> •the “melting, liquid light” line is inspired by the poem[“When I Love” by Nizar Qabbani ](https://allpoetry.com/When-I-Love) which you may have seen from the fantastic arabic love poems tweet that went around recently (looks like op deactivated or got suspended, so i can’t link the thread, sorry) 
> 
> •the busker is playing[Hopelessly Devoted to You from Grease](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r-3NvDp28U4)
> 
> •not to get too personal but i wrote this to cope with a lot of Bad Things happening (i’m okay now!!) and since viktor and yuuri give me so much comfort so i hope if you’re also going through some Bad Things, this fic gives you some comfort and kind of reminds you to find joy in the little things, like slow dancing w someone you love (or by yourself!! single person slow dancing!!) 
> 
> •that being said this might be my last yoi fic for a while (at least until the movie comes out) so if you’re still subbed to me (after all this time?? thank u i luv u) don’t be surprised if i pop into like a million diff fandoms to write things and then dip (the black jackals have me by the throat and im also v stressed abt the latest bnha chapters also i binged the entirety of great pretender aaaa) 
> 
> section title songs: 
> 
> [i. Cinnamon by Jome](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-i6QfXbbV4s) –– [ii. La Vie En Rose by Edith Piaf](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kFzViYkZAz4)–– [iii. Slow Dancing in the Dark by Joji](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVDiAoxdR8E) –– [iv. Angel by Finneas](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lq5P2zCKwA8)
> 
> I’m [xyloophones](https://xyloophones.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and [@_xylophones](https://twitter.com/_xylophones) on twitter!!


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